


The Huntress made Lady

by completefftrash



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completefftrash/pseuds/completefftrash
Summary: Ashara Lavellan detests everything about being part of a noble elvish house. From the many stupid rules, to the ridiculous fashion. The only reason she would attend the Dread Wolf's annual Wintermarch celebration would be because she absolutely had to. And as luck would have it, she absolutely had to.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic I've posted in a very very long time. I am no writer, but I am just absolutely consumed by solavellan hell. As Sera would say, "You're in it." I've been dying to read about them in some kind of soapy medieval au, but I haven't had luck finding the right fic. So I decided to write one! With a typically styled MC of course. I hope I can entertain you with my poorly written plot. I do need to warn you, Solas will be ooc for a little while. I have a reason! I promise, he will eventually resemble the Solas we all know and love. Without further a-do, enjoy!

She hates the snow, the cold, the clack her ridiculous shoes make on the grey stone stairs, the swish of the insufferable tule that is her dress, the weight of her hair piled on her head, and most of all she hates the person that this stupid ensemble is for; Fen’Harel.

Ashara Lavellan always considered herself more wildling than a lady like her name would suggest. House Lavellan had become more of a noble house in history more so than current power or riches anyways, thanks to her father’s total ineptitude for anything business related. Oh, and lets not forget the gambling habit or addiction to prostitutes of course. Those were borderline requirements to being a lord, weren't they?

_Who on earth designs an estate this far up a fucking mounting_ , she grumbled internally.

Pausing a moment to catch her breath, she allows her eyes to wander up the many more steps left to the tallest mountain in the Frostbacks. Situated rather snugly into its side, sprawled a large, dark stoned castle. It was the largest building she had ever seen, with intimidating towers and walls decorated with statues of elven sentinels.

She wasn’t the only one making the climb. The staircase was wide and accommodated many groups of people making their way towards the fortress. In attendance were all the noble houses of Arlathan, Orlais, Ferelden, and many more nations. The ones from Arlathan being the easiest to spot due to the opulence of their attire.

They made their way up the stairs as was tradition for their Wintermarch celebration, a tradition to honor their God-King. Servants passed, arms swelling with packages and suitcases for the families staying the month. Most of the servants were humans, except for the rare Qunari who probably was more of a bodyguard than a butler.

Ashara herself was accompanied by her father and mother, as well as a few rather poorly dressed human servants. In comparison, they were probably the poorest dressed clan she’d seen so far. Her dress was the exception in their ensemble and was of the latest fashion.

It clung to her waist like a second skin and billowed out slightly at her hips. The top was looser than the waist but only just, it flirted with inappropriateness at how much cleavage it bared. Not to mention the only thing that was making sure the whole of Thedas didn’t get a front row view of her bare breasts were golden buttons on her shoulders that connected the back and front fabrics of the gown. The color was the only thing that Ashara really approved of, it was an icy blue that complimented her paleness and violet eyes. Her parents had spent the remainder of their dwindling fortune on the scraps of silk that adorned her body and Ashara wondered if it would have been better to present herself naked.

A sharp tug on her arm, underneath the grey fur cloak that was her only defense against the cold, pulled her from her observations.

“Move da’len, I’ll not suffer the embarrassment of being the last House to be introduced to his excellency,” her father hissed in her ear.

Her own painted lips drew back in a soundless snarl. Creators, she hated her family. Amethyst eyes clashed with her fathers, the same eyes, in defiance.

“Look around, Lord Lavellan, we are already an embarrassment.” Shaking his bruising grip off with a sneer, she stomped ahead of him. Her only personal servant, Leliana, quick on her heels.

The gate of Fen’Harel’s castle was growing as they neared and sentries on his walls were careful to mark every face in the large crowd. She felt even more ridiculous now that they were nearer. The dress seemed to gain fifty pounds, a weighted reminder of what she was to do here. To gain the Dread Wolf's attention.

Even though he was a god he, like so many, fell victim to desires of flesh. His hedonism was known far and wide across the land. As much as it was tradition for anyone who was anyone to make the grueling trip up to his home, it was tradition for him to select a new harem for the year from their ranks. He seemed to only have two requirements for his partners; female and elven.

Disgust vibrated under her skin at the thought of serving him in any kind of physical capacity. Ashara was like the wind in spirit; freedom was something she valued above anything else. Which was why she was cursing herself for her current predicament. She had to remind herself again and again, with every step forward, the reason why she volunteered herself to her father. It was to protect the only other person in the world she cared for more than Leliana. Ellana, her most precious sister.

She summoned the image of her gentle sibling and followed the herding of the guards as they were ushered into the great receiving hall of the keep. It was monstrous, it’s walls carved black marble, rugs of the lushest cashmere covered the glittering black floors, and great intricate chandeliers of veilfire hung from the ceiling. It gave Ashara the distinct impression of a wolf’s mouth.

They all lined up before the huge black steel doors that would lead to the ballroom and the many servants were led towards other rooms for them to wait in until the ball was over. Ashara analyzed the silver filigree that decorated the door. She wondered at the price of such an ornate slab of metal.

The doors are pushed open after what feels like hours, and Ashara’s breath is caught in her throat at the beauty of this new room. The antithesis of the dark room she first entered, this room was a bright and beautiful imitation of sunlight. The chandeliers were delicate gold, glowing with normal fire and not the otherworldly veil fire. Hues of the green and blue tapestries that dot the walls were reflected in the polish of the white marble floors. Large windows that are at least three times her size in width, and twice as tall arch upwards with classic elven style. This room was far larger than the predecessor and tables covered in the most decadent looking food lined the edges. Stairs lead down to a mosaic tiled dancing floor and then even more lead upwards again towards the host’s receiving platform.

There he was. Divinity made flesh.

He was dressed in silver colored armor in the style of the ancients, sitting on a rather harsh looking black throne that didn’t match the feeling of the room at all. He was lounging against the back of it, head resting on his hand as he leaned on its arm, the perfect picture of boredom. He was breathtakingly handsome with sharp cheekbones, cutting jawline, a lush mouth drawn into a slightly annoyed line. His best feature by far was his eyes. Liquid stormy steel. If that was even a color that could exist naturally.

After she got over the room and his appearance, she felt his magic. His power coated every surface in a heady heavy cloud. It filled the room and almost gave the impression that it was stifled by the space. When she breathed, she could feel its tang on her tongue, feel the way it oozed down her throat into her very lungs. She half wondered if he could feel it, feel every breath she took, and if he could pull her lungs from her mouth if he so willed it without the slightest thought.

_Obey_ , the magic whispered in her ear, a taunting buzz. _Submit_.

Yet another thing to hate added to the neverending list.

The nobles excited whispers filled her ears. A human servant with brown locks took his place at the front of the line; an announcer set to begin introducing the many lords and ladies of Thedas to his excellency. The first group of nobles pushed a small scroll into his waiting hands, and the introductions began in earnest.

Ashara allowed her eyes again to wander the room before they settled on her parents that had taken their place ahead of her. Her father was tall and thin, his white hair slicked back against his skull. She took in the sunken planes of his face, and the curl of his thin mouth that tended toward cruelty. Age had not been kind to him. Her mother was much shorter than Ashara or her father, her honey brown tresses pulled back into the bun that was a typical style of a married lady. Her mother’s features were softer, more round, and spoke of an alluring beauty in her youth. Her emerald eyes were so much like Ellana’s, but they lacked the warmth of her sisters. Probably due to the many years as the wife of a domineering, ridiculous man.

Ashara herself was quite a sight. While the dress was certainly spectacular, she held no illusion on the subject of her beauty. Her lips were a gift from her mother, full and tinted a most lovely shade of pink. She was pale, almost as pale as snow, and her hair was like liquid starlight shimmering in the light of the chandeliers. Her nose was proud and her cheekbones sat high and full on her face, dusted with faint freckles that were her only evidence of having spent time in the sun. The purple of her eyes was exotic, a gift from her father, and gave her visage a flavor of mystery. She was well aware of her attractiveness, she had seen the way the males and females around her had regarded her when she came of age and developed a feminie figure.

It mattered little to her. Not that being regarded as attractive wasn’t advantageous in many ways. She just didn’t care about offers of marriage or companionship. All she wanted was to travel, to live among the common people and earn her own way through life. She detested parties and the nobles' beloved ‘game’, probably almost as much as she hated dresses and anything to do with proper etiquette.

Why hide your insults being pretty words, when blunt ones worked so fine?

“ Presenting Lord and Lady Garriel of House Lavellan, and their eldest daughter, Ashara Lavellan.”

Unclasping the cloak from her shoulders, she could feel the appraising eyes of the crowd following her every movement. She felt some of those gazes turn more heated as she let the heavy fur fall from her shoulders. With a soft word of thanks, she handed the article to the outstretched arms of a servant. Her parents approached the middle of the dancing floor, her mother’s eyes never leaving its gleaming surface. Ashara wasn’t far behind, her head held high and shoulders squared as if daring anyone from the bannisters above to sneer at her. Her eyes were focused on her fathers back, looking for her queue.

It was now or never.

Her parents parted and bowed low to the ground, making a space for her to present herself to the wolf; a lamb to be slaughtered.

Ashara did as she was expected to do. Gathering her skirts in her hands, she curtsied as low as her pride would let her. Judging by the soft growl from her father, it wasn’t low enough.

They rose in unison, just like they had practiced many times before. Her father straightened his coat needlessly, a nervous habit that signaled his intention to speak.

“Your majesty, please excuse my daughter. She is rather willful unfortunately, despite my many attempts to cleanse her of it.” His voice trembled ever so slightly with anger, a promise she would be punished later hidden in it’s tone.

Ashara kept her eyes trained on her reflection on the floor and watched as a scowl formed on her face. She hoped he choked on the Dread Wolf’s boot as he licked it.

To her surprise, she heard a soft chuckle that was only a few feet in front of her. Her eyes darted towards the sound, keeping to the marble, and what she saw caused her jaw to clench anxiously.

Fen’Harel had moved from his throne and stood an arm and a half’s lengths ahead of her. How did she not notice? He was so close his aura was almost suffocating, and judging by the silence of the room, his behavior was rather unusual.

“Raise your head, Miss Lavellan.” She started at the sound of his voice. It was silken and soft, yet commanding. It made her hackles bristle at the authority in the tone.

Her shoulders as stiff as stone, she willed her head to rise quickly and without fear. If she was going to do this, she would not sacrifice herself in the process. She would not be afraid and she would not falter.

Defiant amethyst met amused storm grey, despite every instinct in her telling her to not to.

The amusement in his eyes grew and they flitted over her face, then momentarily down her body before returning. He clasped his arms behind his back and a corner of his mouth flicked upward in the imitation of a smile.  
“I welcome you to my home. I hope the festivities are to your liking.”

“Would it matter if they were not, my lord?” The words flew from her mouth before she could bite her traitorous tongue. She groaned internally as the other nobles gasped overhead at her impertinence. Surely her parents looked as though they would faint.

Fen’Harel only laughed, the sound bouncing off the columns of stone and glass of the windows. A smile fully bloomed on his face and if she were a lesser woman she would have swooned.

“No, I suppose not. I look forward to your company this evening, Miss Lavellan. Would you do me the honor of a dance later on?” His eyes were dancing on their own now, more laughter hidden within.

“Of course, ser.” She curtsied again and this time pulled her gaze from his to instead stare at his shoes.

Just like that she was whisked away from him and up onto the landings where the other nobles gathered, her fathers grip on her arm as strong as steel. They didn’t stop moving until they were at the back of the crowd and tucked into a small space behind a column.

Ashara half expected a stinging slap across her cheek when they were secluded, but when she looked up into his aged face only a conniving smile welcomed her. Her mother positioned herself in front of the window nearest to them, her face was shadowed but Ashara saw relief flickering in her distant eyes.

“ Well done da’len. I admit I expected to see you beheaded at the end of the evening, but I suspect another outcome entirely will come to fruition.” His dull eyes clouded further with possibilities that Ashara was sure she didn’t want anything to do with.

Yanking her arm from his grasp, she rubbed the tender skin where his fingers had dug in. A growl bubbled up from her throat and she glared at her father who paid no attention to her anger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself father, my head may roll yet.”

He only snickered in response, his arms sliding behind his back in a poor attempt to mimic the Dread Wolf’s earlier stance. “No, I think not. He seems rather taken with you already. It seems it was a good idea to bring you, instead of your sister. Your wildness seems to intrigue him. However, watch your step Ashara and remember what is at stake if you curry his wrath instead of his favor.”

Of course she knew. She turned her glare to the floor. Ellana was at risk

Her beautiful, kind hearted, gentle sister. Where Ashara was the harsh wild winter, Ellana was the glorious fresh spring. She had taken almost exclusively after their mother, with her honey brown hair and green eyes. She was everything her father had wanted Ashara to be. She was kind, well read, and took her duty as a lady of a noble house seriously.

She was also kind to a fault. She treated everyone with kindness whether they deserved it or not and did everything in her power to help anyone in any way she could. A true, soft hearted saintess.

So in order to preserve her heart, Ashara would dance with the Dread Wolf at the very least. With the way his gaze had slid over her, she was sure dancing would only be the beginning. A shiver climbed up her spine, though it was not as full of disdain as she was expecting.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Solas loved watching the nobles fall over themselves to gain his favor. He had returned to his throne after the Lavellans had quickly disappeared from his sight and once again lounged in boredom. He racked his brain for knowledge on the Lavellan clan while other nobles scrapped the floor in greeting.

From what he could dredge up in his mind, House Lavellan was a merchant family that acquired a noble title many years ago when one of their own caught the eye of a Nevarran prince. They had considerable wealth before and during the period when the male elf was a consort of the Crowned Prince, and even after when they split amicably. It seemed however, that things had turned sour if the state of the lord and lady’s attire had anything to say about it. Threadbare and faded, not to mention the clothes were a few fashion trends behind.

A small smirk played across his face as he recalled what the daughter was wearing. It was an obvious attempt to gain his favor. Usually when he invited a young woman from a noble house to join him for a year, that house was generously compensated and many sought to take advantage of that. Things indeed have seemed to turn sour for House Lavellan.

Things like that did little to entice him, however, no matter how dire the situation of the family. It meant much more to him what kind of personality the woman had before he’d consider sending an invitation. An interesting conversation was the best kind of foreplay in his opinion.

House after House was introduced and daughters paraded in front of him like prized ponies. It was all incredibly dull and repetitive. A few of the women caught his eye, but all in all nothing interesting.

A flash of defiant violet eyes in his mind had him smirking again.

Perhaps this year's Wintermarch will be more entertaining than last.


	2. Chapter 2

Nursing a glass of wine, Ashara made it her mission to stay as far away from her father as possible. She even made no attempt to reapproach Fen’Harel after all the introductions had been made; she figured if the god wanted to make good on his request, he could come find her. He had enough pretty women following him everywhere anyways.

She watched the Dread Wolf as he mingled with his guests. He seemed to be rather enjoying himself, though he paid his pack of suitors no attention. 

Humming to herself along with the music, she leaned lightly against the wall and turned her attention to the many couples dancing on the floor below. Any one who approached her was quickly turned away with a glare or rude gesture; all save for one.

A handsome elf with long dark hair took up residence beside her, and no matter what expression she had or what she did, he would not leave. In fact, she got the distinct impression that the more she tried to make him leave, the more he wanted to stay.

“That isn’t a very lady-like thing to do,” he murmured after her second rude gesture. Despite his words, his voice was full of laughter.

“I’m not a very lady-like person, yeah? So piss off,” she grumbled into her glass, glaring at him from the corner of her eye. She wished Sera were here, she’d be proud of how Ashara was treating the other nobility.

“But you were so nice and proper in front of his majesty, couldn’t you extend that to his right hand man?” He smirked as she stiffened slightly at his words. 

She turned fully towards him then, still glaring as she gazed up into his dark eyes. “Why are you talking to me?”

A shrug before he mirrored her actions, turning towards her. “I was curious. I wanted to see for myself what would make his royalness get off his arse.” The way his tongue contorted around ‘his royalness’ wasn’t very respectful and leaned precariously towards a mocking tone.

She hummed and took another sip of her wine in contemplation. “Do I meet your expectations?”

“Oh no, not at all.”

“Fantastic, you can leave now.”

He laughed, throwing his head back so the sound careened upwards into the vaulted ceiling. When his dark eyes landed on her face again, they were endlessly amused. “I think we could be good friends, actually. My name is Felassen.”

“I’m not here to make friends.” Even as the words left her mouth, she couldn’t help but weigh the potential benefits of being ‘friends’ with him, if he was who he said.

“Having one couldn’t hurt that badly. Perhaps even I could give you a leg up on winning an invitation to say for the year? I’m assuming that is the reason you're here.”

Ashara couldn’t stop the string of elven curses that flew from her mouth and into her glass. A part of her curled in on herself in embarrassment. How she must look to him, a conniving female after the Dread Wolf’s bed. _Who cares,_ she growled to that part, _your reasons are your own. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks._

Forcing a smile to her lips, she cocked her head in curiosity. “Oh?”

Creators, this was so embarrassing.

“That got your attention, hm?” Felassen slid his hands into the pockets of his dark blue suit, and turned his attention outwards.

Ashara flexed her jaw in an effort to keep the smile. “Perhaps, if the information you provided is useful...we could be ‘friends’. Depends on what you would want from this friendship, I suppose.”

He looked at her again, a brow quirked. “Are you concerned I’d try to force you to sleep with me?”

“Naturally. That’s always a woman’s first fear, don’t you know?” The smile was gone. Her damned glass was empty and she didn’t want to have this conversation without any alcohol.

“I have no interest in unwilling partners. Nevermind the fact you aren’t my type. I simply want you to remember I helped you. That’s all.”

“So a favor then,” she mused, paying no mind to his other words. “Fine. But your information better be useful.”

His smirk made another appearance and he raised a hand to run through his hair. “It is, I assure you. Fen’Harel, you see, is different from what people may say. He has slept with his fair share of women over the years, but never any who throw themselves at him as soon as they can. He, like a true wolf, enjoys the hunt. Speak to his intellect, not his looks. There you will find favor.” 

Ashara took a moment to absorb the new information. Enjoys the hunt, does he? She supposed anyone would tire of having people throw themselves at you. There would be more fun to be had with a challenge. It was something she could understand. When she raised her head to thank him, he was already gone.

Huffing, she turned her attention back to the crowd, only for her eyes to lock with curious grey.

_Don’t look now Ash, but a god is staring at you from afar. No need to panic._ Inwardly, she sighed. This was going to be such a pain in the ass.

She raised a brow at him in question and inclined her head in a small greeting. He returned the gesture, a small half-grin on his lips. The Dread Wolf then turned his attention to the head of House Orenavra who was gesturing and talking rather animatedly. 

_Phew,_ she thought in relief. Straightening herself from the wall, she made her way through the crowd towards a servant to refill her glass. After she completed that task, she moved along the wall, sipping the wine and studying the hanging decor with mild interest. There were paintings sprinkled intermittently between the tapestries, something she hadn’t noticed when she first walked in.

She paused in front of a large depiction of the Waking Sea. The waves rose and fell violently, frozen in time during a rather nasty looking storm. A lone ship was cresting the largest wave, lightning from behind casting a harsh light through its sails. She looked around for a name on its frame, but found none.

“Rather ominous looking, isn’t it?”

The hairs on the back of Ashara’s neck rose, and she couldn’t stop a small shiver from running up her spine at the voice. She could practically feel his warm breath sliding down her back and caressing her skin sinfully.

Fen’Harel moved from behind her, to her side. When she braved a glance towards him, she relaxed a little upon seeing his eyes trained on the painting rather than her. Looking back up at the painting, she let her eyes trace over the waves.

“I disagree.”

From her peripherie she watched as he turned his attention to her, his gaze warming her face. “You think it looks joyful?”

“What? No. I think....it looks exciting. Thrilling. To be at the mercy of nature, not knowing whether you’d find favor or ruin…” Her eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her head back ever so slightly, lips parting. If she tried hard enough she could smell it. The harsh salty scent of the water. Hear the waves crashing with thunderous force. A tendril of longing wound itself tightly around her heart. With a soft sigh, she blinked her eyes open again. “It would be a dream to experience first hand.”

She could feel his gaze searching her face, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Shifting her gaze to his, she allowed her eyes to wander his face. “Have you come to claim that dance? I’ll warn you, my lord, dancing is something I’m quite awful at.”

Her question seemed to pull him from his thoughts and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He offered a hand which she took without much thought. “No need to worry Miss Lavellan. You are in quite capable hands.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she sat her glass down on the nearest available surface and allowed him to pull her towards the dance floor. The people parted readily for them, whispers already flying.

He pulled her further still, to the center of the dance floor. Turning to her, he stepped slightly closer with a question in his eyes.

She mirrored him and in answer slid a pale hand onto his shoulder. He responded by laying a hand on her waist. Ashara tried to ignore the way her stomach was clenching at his touch, to little avail.

Her eyes stare at the collar of his shirt to avoid the gaze she knows is burrowing into her face. The music begins and like a perfect little doll, she is twirled effortlessly to its beat. He wasn’t lying. Who knew a wolf could dance so well?

“You seem surprised.”

Ashara mentally kicked herself for letting her mask slip and baring her true emotions. “To be perfectly honest, your highness, I think this is the longest I’ve danced without stomping on the feet of my partner.”

A small chuckle had her eyes trailing upwards in a dangerous fashion. He really was too infuriatingly handsome. It was disarming.

“I’m a man of my word, Miss Lavellan.”

“Yes well. If the legends are to be believed, you're a man of many words.”

A heart beat of silence, stretched to two. Something flashed in the depths of his eyes, but she did not falter and the emotion was gone too quickly for her to recognize it. The world seemed to fall away until it was only them, dancing to music that seemed to float in from the Fade itself.

“And many faces,” he murmured. Raising the arm he held in his hand, he spun her slowly, before bringing her back to him again. This time the hand that was on her waist moved to her lower back and pressed their bodies closer.

“Which face is this one?” Again, the words flew before she could stop them. For Thedas sake, her head really was going to roll at this rate. But she could feel the heat of his body through their clothes and it was scrambling her thoughts.

He inclined his head towards her, his lips forming a mischievous smirk. “Are you fond of it?”

She gave a very soft, very unladylike snort. Tilting her head back, she made a show of analyzing his face. Truthfully she may have spent a few more moments than necessary on his mouth, but hey she could appreciate beauty in its many forms. “It’s adequate.”

His mouth fell open in mock shock, though his shoulders shook slightly with suppressed laughter. “My lady you wound me irrevocably. I demand repayment for this slight.”

Despite her best effort, a smile took root on her face and she let her eyes wander away from him. How long had it been since she had seriously flirted with anyone? Enjoyed any kind of playful banter? Apparently a long time, considering she was willing to try it with Fen’Harel. “Oh? And what should be my method of repayment, hm? I’ll have you know, sir, the slightest hint of some lecherous suggestion and you’ll lose the pleasure of my company forever.”

“I wouldn’t dare debase you in that way.” Although his tone seemed to imply the opposite. She felt his breath tickle her cheek as he leaned closer, whispering into her ear. “Stay with me. In my home. You interest me, Miss Lavellan. In a way I haven’t been in a very long time. I’d very much like to get to know you.”

There it was, the invitation. Ashara was surprised it was the man himself to extend it. Her father had said that usually it came in the form of a servant approaching the House to ask. 

She opened her mouth to accept, to complete the task she had set out to do as soon as she put on her ridiculous dress. The words caught in her throat, contorting around her tongue and tangling in an unutterable mess in her mouth.

At her silence he pulled back slightly, watching the emotions war openly on her face. Relief. Fear. Uncertainty. Hope. 

She suddenly became aware of their lack of movement. The music had stopped and the sounds of the other guests flooded her ears. Swallowing thickly, her eyes again dipped to his collar. What in the fuck was wrong with her?

Fen’Harel leaned forward again, his voice soft and gentle. “Take your time to consider. I’ll await your answer.” 

Ashara could only watch helplessly as he pulled away. Before he completely severed their contact, he brought the hand he had been holding to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, then he was gone, striding towards a group of people.

Summoning all her strength, Ashara willed her legs to remove her from the dance floor and they obeyed shakily. Just _what_ was happening to her? If one thing was becoming ever so abundantly clear, she was in way over her head when it came to Fen’Harel. Something about him intoxicated her and had her acting no better than an overly eager lovesick maiden. 

He was...not exactly what she had expected so far. She hadn’t expected to fall so easily to his charms and it was an error she needed to seriously consider. For the thousandth time that evening, she was so happy that she was there instead of Ellana. The Dread Wolf would have devoured her completely, as he was threatening to do to Ashara and the only thing they had done was dance.

The nobility gave her a wide berth as she stalked towards her previous spot against the wall. She could practically hear what they were thinking. Fen’Harel had shown her blatant favor tonight, he might as well have marked her. The first lamb of the season.

Ashara let the next few hours pass without moving from her spot. She watched her father pass from group to group, trying fruitlessly to network with the wealthier nobles. Her mother stayed in one circle of married ladies the entire evening. Finally she watched the Dread Wolf prowl around his ballroom, looking for all the world a trickster god confined in a mortal body.

A flicker of movement to her right drew her attention from her people watching, and her eyes fell on a human dressed in the tell-tale colors of Fen'Harel’s court. He bowed low, his red hair swaying.

“I was instructed by his lordship to inquire as to your decision.”

When? She had watched him the most out of anyone. When had he sent a command to a servant?

Huffing, she found her head turning and gaze searching for him. It found him and his eyes looking at her again. Warmth spilled into Ashara’s cheeks and she quickly averted her eyes. “Tell him...I accept his offer.” Her voice was much weaker than she had intended and she worried for a moment that the human’s dull hearing would not pick it up.

“Of course. If you will, my lady, I could take you to your room?”

A room was already prepared. Of course it was. So he expected acceptance and why wouldn’t he? She doubted there were many things in the world that the Dread Wolf did not get if he desired them.

She followed the red-haired man through one of the many double doors that were attached to the ballroom. He led her down a dimly lit corridor and up a large curved staircase. Then they walked down yet another long hallway before he paused in front of a beautifully carved walnut door. 

“This is where you’ll be staying for the duration of your visit. Any servants you have will be housed in the room across from yours for convenience.” The servant pulled a simple golden key from his coat and slid it into the lock of the door.

“Thank you. I have one servant, Leliana. When can I expect her to be shown to her room?”

“I shall retrieve her at once. Then I’ll inform your family soon after.” With a click, the door swung open and he moved aside for her to enter.

When Ashara stepped in, she was completely convinced that she had never seen such a ridiculously decorated room. The bed frame, the entirety of it, was carved amethyst. There were depictions of hundreds of flowers in its four posters. Hanging from the frame’s beams were white gossamer curtains that were held open by silver corded ropes. The sheets were a glimmering white silk decorated with silver embroidery.

Once she got over the insanity that was the bed, she took in the rest of the arguably plain room. The walls were a light grey stone and the fireplace was a pretty chiseled marble. There were floor to ceiling bookcases on either side of the fireplace that were full of ancient looking tomes. The floors were a slightly darker walnut than the door and the wardrobe, desk, and dresser matched. There was a hide in front of the fireplace that was an animal Ashara had never seen before, some kind of large cat mixed with a wolf.

The fact that the room matched her so well in terms of coloring was not lost on her. Honestly, it bordered on creepy.

She moved towards the bed, overwhelmed with the need to see if the sheets were as soft as they looked, when the man shut the door and locked her within.

_Creepy._ Although she wouldn’t want people wandering around unattended in her home either. But locking the door? Way to make a girl feel at home.

Hesitantly she reached a pale hand out and felt the comforter. It was softer than she imagined. To think she would sleep in such an opulent bed…she shook her head to dispel the thoughts before they could take hold. This room, as beautiful as it was, felt oppressive and heavy. It spoke of a promise to be fulfilled and Ashara hated it.

Her shoes were quickly kicked off across the room, one almost finding its way into the fireplace. Relishing the feel of the cold wood on her sore soles, she moved to the bookcases to peruse the titles. There was quite a collection of history texts and theory of magic tomes; they made up the majority of the genres. Ashara was pleased however to find a few travel guides to distant lands, one about Navarra and the other about Kirkwall. Those would be thumbed through painstakingly slow in the coming year for sure. There were even a couple of fantasy novels and one particularly raunchy looking love story. 

Of course the book she pulled from the shelves was the romance. It was titled ‘Lord of Scoundrels’ and the cover held no illusion to what the novel was about. A beautiful black haired female elf was splayed out on top of what looked like a bed of flowers. A male elf loomed over her, he was brown haired and shirtless. They were wrapped in a tantalizing embrace. His eyes were closed and lips brushing her cheek intimately. The woman's face was turned towards the reader, her expression sultry and eyes heavy lidded with desire.

Ashara couldn’t help the smirk that grew on her face at the thought of the Dread Wolf owning such a silly looking novel. It was possible it was left by a previous occupant of the room, but it was much more fun imagining Fen’Harel helplessly engrossed by this book next to a fire and sipping on a steaming cup of tea.

The sound of the door unlocking drew her attention behind her, towards the door. Leliana stepped through the gateway and stopped dead, her eyes on the bed. The same servant bowed to Ashara behind her, before shutting the door. He didn’t lock it again, fortunately.

“Completely ludicrous, isn’t it Leli?” Ashara sat the book down on the desk with the intention of reading later, and moved next to the beautiful redheaded woman.

“Yes...that is certainly one word for it.” Her familiar voice soothed away the tension in Ashara’s body and she smiled genuinely before pulling the red haired woman into a tight hug. 

Leliana responded immediately, her arms wrapping tightly around the pale elf. She was far more than a servant to Ashara as they had grown up together. “Let’s get you out of this dress, hm? I’m surprised you haven’t torn it from you the moment you were alone in this room.”

“Please, I would have if I wasn’t unsure of whether I’d need it again. It is the nicest thing I own. What about you, Leli? Were you treated alright? Kept comfortable?”

Ashara allowed Leliana to turn her around and begin to loosen the hidden cords that kept the dress glued to her abdomen. She sighed in slight relief as the first knot was undone, allowing her to take her first free breath of the evening.

“I was fine. The others cracked open some lovely antivan wine and you know I smuggled in some halla cheese. It was a lovely evening. The servants from the Ralaferin House always have the most entertaining stories.” The dress quickly pooled around Ashara’s feet and she stretched leisurely.

“Good, I’m glad. I’m furious you couldn’t come with me to the ballroom. The food was fucking delicious, Leli. Did the guy who fetched you grab our bags?” Quickly she turned back to Leliana, wearing nothing but her smalls and breast band, and spun the other around to work on loosening her dress as well. Leliana’s clothes were much more simple than what Ashara had worn tonight, but Leliana could make anything look like the most expensive silk. She was so beautiful.

“Yes, they are just outside the door.” Stepping away before Ashara finished loosening the fabric, she cracked the heavy door open and snaked an arm out retrieving two suitcases that held both of their belongings.

Eagerly, Ashara grabbed her suitcase and dropped it on the bed. She flipped the clasps and opened the battered leather case. She retrieved the night shirt she was after and pulled it over her head. Pushing the case unceremoniously off the bed, she replaced it and sighed contentedly when she sank a few inches into the bed’s surface.

“Will you stay with me tonight, Leli? It’ll be so odd without Ellana here…” The sisters had shared a room and bed since the younger could crawl. Sleeping alone seemed so strange to Ashara. 

“Of course.” Leliana quickly changed into her own nightclothes and joined Ashara on the other side of the bed. “You should wash that makeup off before you lay down. I’d hate to see what all that kohl would do to the pillow cases.”

Grumbling, Ashara did as Leliana suggested and moved to the water basin on top of the dresser. Scrubbing her skin roughly, she checked in the mirror to make sure her face was clean before she joined Lelianna in the bed, blowing out the few candles that dotted the room.

Leliana was already under the covers and situated comfortably when Ashara climbed in. Questions were brewing in the red haired woman’s mind, though she allowed the other woman to settle back into the absurdly soft mattress before letting them loose.

“It’s safe to assume then that you were able to grab his attention. Although, I did not doubt you for a moment. Tell me about it. I want to hear all about the infamous God, Fen’Harel. Spare no detail. Is he as handsome as the rumors say? Did you manage to anger any of the other nobility? Trip any unassuming dance partners?” 

At the last question Ashara let loose a laugh. Gods, Leliana knew her so well. But oh boy, did she not know the half of it. At least where Fen’Harel was concerned. It was going to be quite a tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH this was so much later than i was expecting. It was going to be much longer but i had to exert some freakin self control. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but its ok. Ty for reading this far if youre here!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much if you've made it this far. I would love any constructive criticism! I am working on chapter two as I posted this, so hopefully it will be out soon. Again, thank you, and I hope wherever you are if its cold, you are keeping warm. Be safe!


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